Page 30 of Final Serenade

“I didn’t ask a music journalist to dinner.” He leaned closer, his elbows flat on the table. “I asked a woman who was in a room with Frankie Blade and Dante Martinez and walked out.”

My breath hitched. The words spiraled through me, unreal and uncanny. I took them as they came and evaluated, letting myself believe the meaning was open for interpretation.

“Soo…let me get this straight.” I leaned forward to meet him halfway, our faces inches apart above the table. “Is this Frankie Blade or Frank Wallace talking to me right now?”

He gave me an eerie smile, his eyes darkening under the visor of his hat. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters. Am I having dinner with a man or an idea?”

“It’s Frank.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Frank.” I held up my hand and he shook it. “And no, I will not do the body folding trick for you again. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Like a solar eclipse.”

His laughter rumbled in my ears, head, and chest. I loved it.

“Can we leave the questions for next time?” he asked.

Heat rushed through me. “Sure.” I nodded. “We can. If thereisa next time.”

“There will definitely be a next time, Cassy.”

“Is something wrong?” My gaze followed the waitress who’d just left our table.

Frankie…Frank looked up from his phone, then slipped his sunglasses into the pocket of his jacket. “There’s press outside.”

My stomach dropped. I glanced down at my own phone to note the time. Two forty-five a.m. Sooner or later, we needed to get out of here. “There’s press inside too. So you’re surrounded.” I flashed him a grin.

He shook his head slightly, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Am I amusing you?” I asked.

“You definitely make me laugh.”

It felt like a compliment and I took it. They were rare in my line of work. The ones I received from people in the industry weren’t always real. This one was.

“What’s the plan?” I watched him tapping out a text.

“Roman’s here.”

I cocked a brow in question.

“My bodyguard. You’ve met. At The Regency.”

“Oh…well.” A sigh of relief left my mouth. “That’s reassuring. Did he bring SWAT?”

“He doesn’t need SWAT.”

“Wait…” I was starting to understand what was going on. “You had your bodyguard follow us here?”

“Yes.” Frank nodded. “There was no room for him in the Ferrari.”

It was my turn to laugh. The man had an amazing sense of humor. I hadn’t been this entertained in a very long time.

We waited a bit longer until Roman arrived. He stood in the hallway outside Tommy’s wearing a jersey, loose jeans, and a pair of Adidas. I wondered if Frank yanked him out of his bed on his day off or this was his usual non-event attire.

The race through the hallway was like a scene from a James Bond movie. We moved fast, Roman leading the procession. The concierge at the front desk gave us a nod again.

“Here.” Frank pulled off his Dodgers hat and gave it to me.

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